Our Newest Family Member

I know this is a blogger taboo to say, but I assure you I have a perfectly reasonable explanation for my year long absence and I can some it up in three words: Inness Berkeley Sours.

Everybody loves a baby!


Last year around this time I found out I was pregnant. I did not handle pregnancy well. I have never experienced such exhaustion and it was all I could do to muster up the energy to shower before crawling back to bed for the day.

Bicycle IIBlog

Needless to say I didn’t get much art done. It was hard and I took it as a personal failure. Looking back I’m reminding myself that this is a phase of life and to not be so hard on myself (easier said than done!). But now I am slowly getting back into the swing of things with a beautiful giggly four month little girl in tow (and those arduous nine months are far in the past).

Meg Inness Drawing

Inness, being the daughter of two artists, was befittingly named after an artist (surprise, surprise) an American landscape painter named George Inness.


George Inness was a tonalist painter in the 19th century who used a restricted color scheme to evoke mood and luminosity. He was very spiritual and believed there was a connection between nature and God. He said, “The true use of art is, first, to cultivate the artist’s own spiritual nature.” It is rumored that, just before he died, he was marveling at a sunset when he cried out to God how beautiful it was before collapsing and passing away.

2 George Inness (1825-1894) The Trout Brook 1891

Before Inness was born, a dear family asked if we were naming her after W.B. Yeats’ poem. I had never read it before and fell in love with Yeats’ lyrical descriptions of his childhood escape to an Irish cabin.

The Lake Isle of Innisfree

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made: Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee; And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey, I hear it in the deep heart’s core.


As a gift, one of the daughters in the family painted a beautiful set of three paintings featuring the words to Yeats’ poem. She endearingly changed the spelling to “Innessfree.”

It’s been fun surrounding our little girl with original art. There’s something special about knowing a unique set of hands carefully and lovingly crafted the work, giving it life and telling a story.

Here’s a set of gold foil prints Bryan and I purchased for the nursery made by a local Utah artist.

Gold Prints Blog

And what better reason to have a kiddo than to have a perpetual model? And for FREE!

Inness Study Blog

Of course she only holds still like, never. And falls asleep on the job. But then only sleeps for fifteen to twenty minutes tops. And never stops eating. And bosses me around. All the time.

I guess you get what you pay for.


Ciao Bella Italia! Part II

Before arriving in Italy I had highly romanticized what the trip was going to be like. But really…who doesn’t romanticize Italy? With cities like Rome or Venice or Florence that are over two thousand years old, their decorative crumbling facades all tell stories alluding to their rich and dramatic history. To drive through the rolling blue and green hills of Tuscany or climb the ragged cliffs of Cinque Terre and look out on the pristine Mediterranean…I mean, what isn’t romantic about Italy?

But as I touched on in my last post, I forgot that Italy is also a country that many people call home, with their own ways and customs, many of which made me very uncomfortable at first because their way of life was so different from my own. Not to mention there’s also garbage and jerks and crime and every other facet of cold hard reality like in any other part of the world.

But once you know and accept this, you also learn there truly is a romantic side to Italy as well. Having lived here for about six weeks here are some of the things I have learned (in no particular order of usefulness or loveliness).

When the word dessert come to mind, I have never pictured cheese. That is until I tried fresh pecorino romano drizzled with honey on a hot summer afternoon. Ooh. Yum.

Now, what does come to mind when I picture dessert in Italy is gelato! And no, gelato is not ice cream. American ice cream is made with heavy cream and egg yolks. It’s also churned faster so it has more air and less flavor. And finally, it’s frozen at a lower temperature than gelato and is chocked full of preservatives to make it last longer. Gelato is made with more milk and more natural ingredients such as fruit so it only stays fresh for a couple of days. It is also churned more slowly and served at a warmer temperature to give it a richer taste. And by the way, it is possible to eat bad gelato! Almost all gelato in the touristy areas of Italy are made from a powdered mix. These gelaterie usually have vats of gelato piled high with decorative fruit or Nutella containers to let you know what the flavors are. The bad gelato is also usually very brightly colored. Look for signs that say artigianale which means it was made the old fashioned way with natural ingredients. If you’re still unsure someone gave me the tip to check out the color of the banana flavor, it should be a dull yellow gray. If it looks like neon sunshine kiss that faux gelaterie goodbye.

One of the things I love about Italy are the drinking fountains throughout the cities. If you’ve ever traveled in Europe you know it is very difficult and very rare to find free water! The fontanelle are very safe for tourists to drink from. Not to mention, the fountains are usually very pretty and decorated with animals. And there’s something very magical about filling your water bottle from the gaping maw of a carved lion.

Speaking of beverages, Italy is big on the bar scene…coffee bars that is! Again, it was so helpful having a few locals show us around. The bars do not have menus as everyone here is born with more coffee expertise than a Starbucks barista. Italians drink their coffee espresso, which is made with less water. So if you ask for a coffee, or caffe, that is what you will be served. American style coffee is caffe Americano. I am not a coffee drinker, but my favorite drink to order was a caffe latte: a little coffee served in a tall glass with hot foamy milk. There is nothing more decadent than sipping this comforting drink for breakfast and scooping out the foam at the bottom of the glass with a spoon.

If you ever plan on visiting Italy, I cannot stress how important it is to get outside of the tourist zones. In some ways they are inevitable because that’s usually where all the good site seeing stuff is. But if you stick to the touristy crap you will be treated as a tourist with the pushy hagglers selling wilting roses, cheap toys, and t-shirts, the pickpockets and expensive tour groups shuffling you along like cattle. “But,” you might say, “I am a tourist.” Of course. But you don’t have to act like one! It’s okay to feel a little uncomfortable and walk into a restaurant that does not have pictures of the food. It’s okay to fumble in bad Italian. And remember to try learn some Italian. Even a few simple phrases such as ciao or grazie comes in super handy as not everyone knows English. Italians are very good at communicating with their hands however, so if you at least attempt to speak their language they are almost always very willing to help you. We’ve met some of the most wonderful people this way. And the pushy hagglers? Don’t make eye contact or smile or even acknowledge them. Just keep walking and if they follow, give a very firm, “No!” They’ll get the message.

There are some other things to be aware of when visiting Italy. The drivers are crazy and they will run you over so I wouldn’t recommend jaywalking. Learn how to use the bus and metro systems. You will do lots and lots of walking, but learning the metro will be a feet saver. Italians also do not like to touch your hands. Rather than handing someone your money, put it on the table (usually there’s a small dish by the register to put it on). Also, do not help yourself unless you’ve asked permission. This includes picking out your own produce at a local fruit and vegetable stand or market. It’s highly offensive to touch their produce with your bare hands. I saw this done time and again by oblivious tourists who were then either severely reprimanded or given an icy glare. If someone is on hand, simply point to what you want. If there’s no one around, look for the box of plastic gloves to put on before helping yourself. The toilets here can also be weird. They usually do not have a seat on them as it is considered gross sitting where a stranger sat their bum, so you’re supposed to squat. In one bathroom there wasn’t even a toilet…just a hole with two places to put my feet. On that occasion I decided to hold it.

Above all my favorite part of my Italian adventure has been the sense of home and family in the Avanti Italia program. Working up a good sweat is cleansing for the soul. It can also create a sense of bonding when working alongside others. Even though they were strangers just a couple weeks ago, the Avanti group has been incredibly accepting, not to mention fun. Every day we eat a big homemade Italian lunch together like potato ravioli and Tuscan bread with warm tomatoes, okra, and peppers fresh from the garden. Everyone laughs and jokes, in spite of the fact that we are behind on our work and each new project seems to have more frustrations, missing tools, and unexpected somethings than successes.

I also love the rustic feel of hanging my clothes to dry out on the line right off of my terrace. Outside my bedroom window the tall perfectly manicured trees, terra cotta rooftops and rows of yellow houses look perfectly incandescent in the warm golden glow of the setting sun.

Perhaps I was right. Italy is perfectly romantically idyllic.

Ciao Bella Italia!

Last summer I received an early morning text from my good friend in Ohio, Jodi Luke, who announced with a substantial number of exclamation points that she was moving to Italy.

Jodi, who has always wanted to do mission work (with a secret yearning to live in Italy), found a connection through Avanti Italia, a wonderful program just minutes from Florence that uses the Bible to teach English for free to anyone who wants to learn. Jodi inquired if I would be interested in going. Of course! But the program was two years long, and Bryan and I felt our present calling was in Utah. I contacted the head of the program to see if there was any short term work that needed done and was put in touch with David and Debbie Woodroof, the current (and incredible!) directors of the school. David said they were planning a lot of renovations on the school summer of 2014 and if we wanted to come and help they would cover room and board.

Eight months later we met Jodi in her new home halfway across the world. Bryan and I have traveled extensively and like to plan and research our trips until our eyeballs bleed. We thought we were ready for the culture differences but it really took us a few weeks to fall into the Italian way of life. I am especially grateful to the Woodroofs who have lived in Italy for seven years now. Having a local show us around has saved us from making some cultural blunders.

For me not having air conditioning when doing physical labor in the mid-nineties was harder to get used to than I would like to admit. I don’t like the lethargic feeling I get in hot wet heat, like my brain is full of cotton balls and I can’t form a single coherent thought (the eight hour time difference didn’t help either). Italy outsources their electric so it’s too expensive to use immoderately. Having no AC also means a lot of open windows which is lovely for fresh air and afternoon sunshine but not so much when every mutant bloodthirsty mosquito knows where to find you, irregardless if you’re wearing 152% DEET spray. But it hasn’t been all bad. One of my fondest parts of the day is going to the bar every morning, especially on Sundays. But more on that later.

Bryan and I have experience with a lot of home renovations which has helped on this mission, but of course Italians have to do things differently. For example, in the states we use latex based house paints which are fabulous because the primer can be mixed right in and the second coat can roll on even while the paint is still wet! House paint in Italy is water based. Rolling a second coat on wet paint would cause the walls or ceiling to peel and collapse. Each can has to be mixed with one part water to four parts paint. This makes the application very drippy and it doesn’t feel like you’re doing anything except making the wall wet and the paint has to change colors at least three times before it dries to look like the color you purchased.

Here’s an example of the condition of one of the bathroom ceilings. The houses are made from mortar, stone, and cement which is more prone to shifting and cracking. Bryan was put in charge of gouging out the cracks which we would then fill and sand for a new smooth ceiling.

The work is very messy.

Last week we finished one of the matrimonial rooms and the director, David, let us go to the paint store to pick out the color for the walls.

On a side note, in Italy you do not help yourself. I, not knowing this, marched into the supply area that was intended for employees only to look at paint brushes and rollers. I returned to the checkout where David was waiting, laughing with the other employees after having explained, I’m sure, I was one of those “Americans.”

And voila! The finished room.